


Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?

by a_gay_poster



Category: Naruto
Genre: Established Relationship, Gratuitous T.S. Eliot References, M/M, PWP (but with feelings)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_gay_poster/pseuds/a_gay_poster
Summary: It was a rare thing for Gaara to be able to slip home before the sun set, rarer still to discover Lee napping.(Gaara comes home on Lee's day off. Then they have sex.)





	Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock), which is my favorite poem of all time. To T.S. Eliot, I'm sorry that I took your poem and used it to write Naruto porn.

Gaara came home early, only to find he had already been beaten there. 

The morning had been a flurry of paperwork and hastily adjourned meetings, but it was all worth it to be able to spend time with his husband on one of Lee’s few days off. 

He passed by Lee’s leg weights on their reinforced stand in the entryway (banned from the house at large after one too many very expensive repair bills) and hung his hat and robes on their hook by the door. 

Above him, he could feel the soothing purr of Lee’s chakra, a rhythmic susurrus that spoke to rest or meditation. The feeling of it rolled down his spine like warm fingers, vaguely ticklish. 

Gaara suppressed his own chakra signature in response, loath to disturb his husband if he was asleep. He ascended the staircase to their room, bare feet treading lightly on the worn steps. He trailed a hand along the banister. He had enough time to take his time today. 

He paused on the top step and heard a faint rumbling: Lee’s snoring. Sleeping, then. He took care to move as quietly as possible to the door of their bedroom. He lingered there for a moment, just watching. 

It was a rare thing for Gaara to be able to slip home before the sun set, rarer still to discover Lee napping. 

Lee was deeply asleep, face down on the mattress. The room was a dim grey, the curtains drawn to and the air cool and still within. Lee’s arms and legs spanned the breadth of the bed, spread wide. His sleeping face was turned away from the doorway, his hair (grown long over the years) in disarray, unbraided and spread across both his and Gaara’s pillows like hanks of silk. 

Gaara’s heart clenched - _god,_ how he loved him - utterly different from the raw ache that characterized their early courtship. This feeling grabbed him and held on like a firm hand squeezing around his own, welcome and grounding. 

He disrobed in a hush, shucking his rolled trousers to the floor and grabbing a clean towel from the linen closet, and padded to the bathroom. Plenty of time for a quick shower before Lee woke up. 

He took his time under the spray, inasmuch as his desert blood would allow him. He let the sting of the hot water wick away the dust of Suna’s streets, the sweat of sitting too long in the stuffy council chambers, the flecks of ink from endless paperwork under his fingernails. 

When he stepped from the bathroom, scrubbed pink, he felt refreshed, renewed. 

He returned to the bedroom to find Lee hadn’t moved. He almost left him there to his own devices - he looked so still and peaceful - but the temptation to touch was too much. Between missions and council meetings and unending reams of paperwork and Lee’s not-infrequent sojourns to his home village, they hardly ever had time to indulge in one another. 

The muscles of Lee’s upper back, thrown into chiaroscuro shadow by the dim light of the room, shifted beneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt he favored after training and made Gaara’s decision for him. He didn’t bother to dress, hanging his towel (stark white and absurdly plush, a concession to Lee’s preferences) on the back of a chair near the door, and stepped towards the bed. 

Gaara could have stared at Lee for hours, if the pattern of their lives would have allowed it. He made a fine picture there, his face relaxed in sleep - quiescent and at peace in a way he never was when awake. Gaara loved Lee at his most animated, but he loved him like this, too - soft and vulnerable and just for him. Lee didn’t sleep like this on missions, Gaara knew from experience; he only fell into this uncommon, deep slumber when he felt _safe._ Nobody but Gaara had the luxury of seeing him like this, and Gaara clutched these moments to himself like precious stones, turning them over in his hands until they were worn smooth as sea glass. 

Lee’s lower lip trembled around a snore; his nose wrinkled adorably. Gaara’s fingers wandered through the ends of Lee’s hair - _soft_. 

Gaara lifted the thin sheet that draped low around Lee’s waist, his eyes straying a moment too long on the muscles of Lee’s thighs beneath his boxer briefs. But he was allowed to look - Lee wouldn’t have minded - and so he looked his fill. Lee liked the attention, sometimes, even if he had no small amount of difficulty accepting it. It was easier this way, without Lee’s sense of propriety and embarrassment to interrupt them, without the blush that filled his face and too often made Gaara feel lightheaded, bloodless. 

Lee’s eyebrows tensed, then smoothed as Gaara slipped unclothed beneath the sheet. There was no space on Lee’s right or left - he had made the span of the bed his own in his sleep - so Gaara made his own space atop Lee. He nestled his nose in at the place where the dip of Lee’s skull met his muscled neck. He inhaled the familiar smell of Lee’s conditioner - mint and peach - and felt all the tension drain out of him. Gaara could feel all the heat of Lee through his thin shirt, a well-defined trapezius twitching in some dream of training or fighting. Gaara’s body responded in turn as he made himself comfortable, lying prone and wrapped around his husband. 

Lee smacked his lips sleepily; his eyes blinked in a haze.

“Gaara?” he asked. A foolish question - anyone else would have been thrown through the wall if they had dared to approach Lee from behind like this. 

“Yes,” Gaara confirmed unnecessarily. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Lee’s neck, the same place he would have slipped a knife if he were an assassin. 

“I didn’t think you would be home so early,” Lee mumbled, undisturbed by Gaara’s weight across his back. 

The statement merited no response, so Gaara didn’t give one. Instead he pressed his advantage, slotting his knees between Lee’s spread thighs, letting the whole of his weight drape over his husband. The space beneath the sheet was warm from Lee’s body heat even where the room was cold. Beneath him, Gaara could feel Lee’s chakra rustling to alertness. 

“Mmm, did you have a good morning?” Lee reached back lazily to rub at Gaara’s flank.

“No.”

“Aw, let me hold you-” Lee’s hand strayed further and further down. “Wait, are you naked?”

There was no reason to lie.

“Yes,” Gaara said, as Lee’s hand found the bare skin of his ass.

“Cheeky,” Lee said with a squeeze. 

Gaara lost his breath into the back of Lee’s neck as Lee rolled over and gathered Gaara into his arms. Gaara propped himself up on his hands so he could look down at his husband’s face beneath him. 

Lee blinked slowly, his eyes still swimming with sleep. He smiled, slow and easy. There wasn’t enough light in the room for his teeth to catch, but Gaara could imagine how his smile would have shone in the sunlight. 

Gaara smiled back, not enough to show teeth, but enough to show Lee how well-loved he was.

“You had a rough morning?” Lee asked, his eyebrows forming a concerned peak in the middle of his forehead. “What can I do to make it better for you?” 

Large, firm hands smoothed down Gaara’s ribs and traced the dips at the base of his spine. Gaara arched into Lee’s touch, catlike. His chakra unleashed itself and snared with Lee’s, tangling and rattling like an animal set loose from its cage. 

“It’s better now,” Gaara muttered.

At that, another smile broke anew across Lee’s face. His hands came up to scrub into Gaara’s hair, scratching and rubbing. Gaara’s shoulders dropped as Lee pressed his knuckles into the muscles at the back of his neck. Lee inhaled deeply when Gaara’s face dropped near his. 

“You smell good,” he said. 

“I showered,” Gaara replied, and took advantage of their proximity to seize Lee’s mouth in a kiss before he could crack some joke and ruin the mood. Lee’s mouth was still cottony from sleep but Gaara couldn’t care less; it was warm, and soft, and (best of all) it was his alone. 

“I had a dream about you,” Lee said, in between kisses. His hands drew patterns along Gaara’s spine, skated down to cup his ass. 

“Oh? What kind of dream?” Gaara let his hips drop, made Lee take all his weight again. 

_Oh._

Gaara licked his lips, then licked at Lee’s. The shape of Lee’s clothed erection nudged at his belly when he ducked his head to nip at the lobe of Lee’s rapidly reddening ear. There was already a telltale wet spot forming where the tip of Lee’s dick was hidden beneath thin fabric, and Gaara’s cock started to swell in interest. 

Gaara shifted down, then up again, dragging his cock against Lee’s stomach and causing his shirt to rise up, exposing defined abdominals and the dark trail of hair that thickened at his waistband. Lee moaned into their kiss, and Gaara slung one leg, then the other over Lee’s firmly muscled thighs until he was straddling him fully, pressed hot against the firm length of him with only fabric to keep them apart. 

Lee’s hands made themselves at home all over Gaara’s body: the column of his spine, the backs of his arms, the soft skin behind his ears. His mouth pressed hotly to Gaara’s, tongue slipping into his mouth to lick at his incisors and then retreat; Gaara’s tongue chased him. Gaara’s skin burned with desire, and he noted with some satisfaction that Lee’s blush had made it all the way down to his stomach. 

Suddenly that thin strip of skin just wasn’t enough, and Gaara begrudgingly pushed Lee’s hands off him to wrestle Lee’s shirt off over his head and discard it somewhere, careless. With the fabric out of the way, all Gaara wanted was Lee’s touch again. 

Lee complied easily - his hands returned to Gaara’s skin as if magnetized. Gaara let his chest drop down and sighed at the feeling of skin on rough skin. 

Lee had a ropy scar that bisected his right pectoral; Gaara trailed kisses down the side of Lee’s neck and followed that scar with his mouth all the way to the waistband of his briefs. This close, he could smell Lee’s scent - not his soap or the liniments he rubbed into his skin after training, but the pure essence of him. He inhaled, and then exhaled a hot breath over the shape of Lee’s erection. He felt it jump against his cheek. It felt thick and so hot that he imagined it was almost painful. 

Lee let out a clenched groan; his chakra crackled. The sound traveled down Gaara’s spine like lightning. His whole body buzzed with arousal. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Gaara panted, looking up.

Lee’s eyes went wide. His face colored the way it always did when Gaara spoke frankly about sex. Gaara couldn’t fathom Lee’s embarrassment - they’d been having sex for years, surely Lee would have grown used to the way Gaara talked by now - but he’d long since learned not to trouble himself over the things that Lee found socially unacceptable. 

Lee’s lips thinned as they always did when presented with a challenge. He raised up on one elbow, gamely preparing to roll over. 

Gaara’s firm hand at his shoulder stilled him. He pressed until Lee let him bear him back down onto the bed. Any other day (any other minute), he would have let Lee tumble him backward onto the mattress, would have wanted Lee to bowl him over and take him. But today he had Lee all to himself - seconds and minutes and hours before them in the grey of their bedroom, Lee sprawled out and boneless and still blinking the sleep from his eyes on their tangled sheets. 

He wanted Lee to enjoy it; he wanted Lee to relax, for once, and let Gaara make him _feel_ the way that he so often made Gaara feel. 

“No,” Gaara commanded. “Stay there.”

In an instant he had shucked the sheet down to wend around their ankles, exposing their bare skin to the cold of their room. He made quick work, too, of Lee’s underwear, delighting in the way the elastic stretched around Lee’s erection before finally letting it free. Lee’s knees bumped his as he rubbed his legs together to dispatch the offending fabric. 

Gaara sat back on Lee’s thighs and took a moment just to take all of him in. He looked _good_ like this, almost indescribably so. 

His hands had fallen back to rub idle circles on Gaara’s hips, the muscles in his biceps flexing under tanned skin. His arms were unbandaged, scars and skin and scabbed knuckles on full display. His left arm, scarred shoulder to fingertip, propped him up - it used to hurt Gaara to look at it. It didn’t hurt him anymore. 

There was beauty in every angle of Lee - in the broad span of his shoulders, in the sharp angle of his clavicle, in the defined mass of his pectorals and the rakish angle of his jaw. Gaara loved him so much it almost hurt, sometimes - loved the expressiveness of his eyebrows (canted upwards now, wanting), loved the shine of his dark eyes, loved the thick fall of his lashes. He could have wasted hours cataloguing every scar and nick and divot in Lee’s battered skin (and had, before, with hands and mouth and too many kisses), the evidence that Lee had fought, and strived, and _lived_. He let his hands wander over the perfect jut of Lee’s hipbones, the slant of the muscles of his lower abs, looking like they were hewn from smooth stone. Gaara wasn’t much of an aesthete, but in his estimation, Lee was nothing short of a work of art. 

Lee cleared his throat, shifted his hips. Gaara had been staring for too long.

Gaara’s eyes snapped to Lee’s face, where his lower lip was caught between straight white teeth, then down to his cock, bobbing between his legs and unflagging despite being untouched for so long. 

Gaara seized the moment with both hands - one slipped down to palm at Lee’s cock and the other reached out to snap by his shoulder.

“Hand me the lube,” he said, and Lee startled to comply.

“I could-” Lee started to say, even as he rooted one-handed through the bedside table and slapped the lube into Gaara’s palm.

“No,” Gaara cut him off. “I want to do this for you.”

Lee inhaled a breath through his nose, struck dumb and staring as Gaara reached behind to slick himself up. Even so directed, Lee couldn’t bear to be still. His fingers blazed trails up and down Gaara’s thighs while Gaara worked himself open. His chest heaved when Gaara’s breath hitched with discomfort, then sighed as he relaxed back onto his own fingers. Lee’s pupils were blown wide, eyes as dark as his hair spilled across their pillows, boundless and fixed on Gaara’s face as Gaara worked his hips up and down in an imitation of some future act. 

Gaara let his eyes fall shut, the sensations too intense to bear while sighted. Even in the dark behind his eyelids he could feel the weight of Lee’s gaze pinning him in place. Lee’s fingers stroked some sensitive part of Gaara’s inner thigh and his cock jumped. 

Once he had three fingers scissoring themselves inside him he opened his eyes to find Lee still staring. The pink hint of his tongue vanished back between his teeth.

“I’m ready,” Gaara breathed, and withdrew his hand. It was almost the truth. He was never _truly_ ready for Lee; Lee overwhelmed him every single time.

“Let me check,” Lee said, unable to resist taking this care despite Gaara’s assurances. In any case, Gaara wouldn’t begrudge him this, and he couldn’t deny how good it felt when Lee rubbed his fingers inside him and found him worked open and wanting. 

Gaara breathed through it, felt the catch of Lee’s knobby fingers inside him. Lee’s fingers were bigger than his own but Gaara took him eagerly, his hips twitching to take Lee down to the last knuckle.

Lee pressed forward, his fingers making quick work of Gaara’s sensitivity, and rubbed firm across the spot that made Gaara’s legs shake. _Fuck_ , Lee was so good, he was _perfect_ , what did Gaara ever do to deserve this? His arms came close to giving out when he looked down and found Lee staring up at his face, at his slack mouth and eyes glazing over with pleasure.

“You’re beautiful,” Lee murmured, a goofy grin working at one corner of his mouth. A shadow fell into his dimple, and Gaara fell in love with him again (and again, and again, and times too innumerable to count). 

Gaara brought their attention back with a slippery hand slicking up Lee’s cock, unable to bear another moment without Lee as close to him as possible. 

“Now,” he urged, slotting his hips forward and positioning Lee’s cock just so against him. 

Lee’s fingers slipped out wetly and gripped Gaara’s knee. Gaara sunk down, down, and _ah_ \- he would never quite get used to this fullness. His head rocked back of its own accord, lightning and Lee’s chakra sizzling up his spine, and he blinked his eyes open to find himself staring at the ceiling.

“Okay?” Lee asked, sounding very far away below him. 

It took a moment before Gaara was ready to look down. He found his fingers digging white divots into the finely muscled flesh of Lee’s forearms, the rough pads of Lee’s thumbs rubbing calming circles into his hips. 

Gaara shifted, felt - _ah_ , just there - something warm and delightful light him up inside. He willed his fingers to release their death grip on Lee’s arms, smoothed up until he was cupping Lee’s shoulders overhand. The new angle brought him pitching forward - _oh_ \- and a raw sound slipped from his open mouth. 

Lee’s thumbnails dug twin crescent marks into his hips, an impressive display of restraint. He didn’t have to wait for long, however, because Gaara raised up on his knees, chasing the crisp heat of that feeling, and brought himself rocketing back down. 

_Oh, god_ , Lee felt so much bigger than Gaara remembered. (It had only been a few weeks, how could Gaara’s body have forgotten the size of him?) Gaara worked his hips up and down, letting the instinctive drive of his body carry him after _more_ and _harder_. His moans grew breathy from the effort, his body burning with exertion and slick with sweat. Lee felt better, somehow, every time, that combination of surprise and familiarity that spoke to Gaara of _home_ and _safe_ and _good_. 

Lee, the unerring perfectionist, didn’t seem able to lay back and let Gaara do all the work for him, shifting his hips here, raising a knee there, seeking to perfect the angle of his thrusts. Between his thighs Gaara felt the telltale twitch of Lee’s hips shifting up and down in time with his motions. 

The cold, plastic cap of the lube bottle dug into Gaara’s knee, jarring. He could see sticky wet marks in the sheets in the shape of his fingers, but he didn’t care one iota, because Lee was _hot_ and _close_ and _inside_. Gaara’s hips stuttered with it, with the feeling of Lee filling him up. 

Lee’s fingers traipsed up from his hips to slot around his ribcage, dripped sparks of heat down his shoulders to the small of his back, caught careless at the sides of his face and the corners of his mouth. Gaara turned his head to press a kiss to one wide thumb, turned back and saw Lee beaming, stars all in his eyes and awe written around his mouth.

“Touch me,” Gaara rasped into Lee’s ear, and bit down on his earlobe before Lee could say, _I was_. (Lee’s ears had always been exquisitely sensitive.) Instead he moaned, and scarred fingers found Gaara’s cock, cupped him in one broad hand and stroked him just the way he liked, slow and firm and twisting over the head. 

There was a scar on Lee’s neck, just below the ear, where an errant kunai had once long ago made itself known, and Gaara licked down its length. Lee’s head tipped back; he bared his neck to Gaara, and Gaara responded with a nip to his jaw, playful, possessive - _mine_. 

Gaara wanted to give this all to Lee, but he knew, too, that Lee derived his pleasure from giving pleasure. And Gaara wanted to give him that as well, because he deserved everything Gaara could give him - deserved more than that, really (deserved everything good in the world). But Lee had inexplicably decided to be satisfied with what little Gaara could offer him, so Gaara let him have it all, and soaked up every groan that fell from Lee’s deserving mouth, covetous even as his hips moved like a static charge, taking everything that Lee gave him and more. 

Gaara’s body sang electric, his hips moving almost of their own accord as Lee squeezed a fist around his cock, keeping a steady rhythm while Gaara’s thrusts grew more erratic. Precum slicked the way and made for easy movement, Gaara’s body like a live wire as he slipped up into Lee’s fist, then back down onto Lee’s dick, exquisite and unceasing. 

His orgasm curled up like smoke within his belly and he chased it, drove his hips down and let the catch of Lee’s cock inside him kindle him from within. He flexed his hips and heard Lee’s groan sound a call-and-response harmony to his own while his hand worked Gaara over in firm strokes. 

Gaara looked up from his place nestled against the side of Lee’s face to see that Lee’s eyes had fallen closed, clenched with his teeth making marks in his lower lip. 

_Yes_ , Gaara thought, and let himself slip over that edge with a curse, cum splattering Lee’s stroking fist and the flexing muscles of his abdomen. 

The muscles of Lee’s thighs beneath him began to tremble, his thrusts growing uneven in response to the pulsing of Gaara’s own body above him. Gaara ground down languorously, let Lee feel just how good he’d made him feel, let slip a groan straight into Lee’s ear. Lee’s hand that had fallen off Gaara’s dick clenched around his hip, leaving tacky fingerprints on his ass as Lee strained upward. 

Gaara tensed, once, deliberately, and held it until Lee shook through his own release. 

Lee’s hips dropped back to the bed with a complaining of mattress springs.

They lay still for a moment, panting into each other’s mouths, Lee slowly softening inside him. Gaara’s skin still thrummed, hypersensitive to Lee’s every twitch and brush of skin. 

Lee rubbed softly down Gaara’s back. The expansion and contraction of his chest brought his skin against Lee’s and set his body tingling all over again. 

Beneath him, Lee’s chakra hummed and rumbled, content and soporific. Gaara let his chakra sink right into that feeling too, despite the scrubbed-raw sensations of his nerves. 

Lee dropped his hips slightly and looked up at Gaara, his expression questioning. 

“Go slow,” Gaara warned, body still trembling with aftershocks. 

Lee acquiesced, gentling his way out of Gaara in fits and starts, until Gaara was splayed carefully atop his husband, their bodies finally separated but still skin-to-skin.

Their room was too hot now, the cool air long since warmed with their breaths and the movement of their bodies. In a gap of the curtains, Gaara saw fog clustering on the windowpane. 

“Give me just a moment,” Lee mumbled, “and I’ll get up and clean us up.”

Gaara pushed at his shoulder ineffectually. 

“No,” he grumbled. “I’ll do it.”

It was long minutes before he could will his legs to move, but through some heroic effort he managed to unstick himself from his husband’s warm skin and muddle his way to the door. He grabbed the towel and trundled it back to the bed, wiping up Lee’s stomach and hand, then his own damp thighs, before dropping it to the floor and collapsing back onto Lee’s broad chest, a leg thrown over Lee’s waist. He didn’t bother to pull up the sheet - they could keep each other warm. 

Lee’s hand came up to cradle Gaara’s head. Gaara nosed against the dip between Lee’s pectorals, breathing in the smell of his sweat. Post-coital drowsiness was already beginning to make itself known in the heaviness of his eyelids, and judging from the faltering movements of Lee’s hand in his hair, Lee was feeling the same.

“Was it as good as your dream?” Gaara mumbled, then pressed a kiss where the words fell clumsily from his mouth.

“Hmm?” Lee hummed, his hand stilling in Gaara’s hair. He paused for so long that Gaara wondered if he had already fallen asleep. “Oh,” he said, finally. “Yes. Even better.”


End file.
